“Elis?” he said to her, as she stood near the Knight-Commander. The mark on her face showed bright red against her pale skin. Her father was face to face with one of the Pargunese lords.

“I am all right,” she said. “I should have expected that. I did, from my father’s advisors, but not from Iolin; we were friends as late as … as when I came.”

“And will be friends again, if you let him,” Kieri said. “He is very young; he will be ashamed. Remember your duty; you are a princess of Pargun.”

She nodded abruptly and looked over at the inglenook. The boy was not shivering anymore and had some color in his face; he looked utterly miserable.

“Your dinner, my lords,” the innkeeper said; conversation stopped as two servants carried in a platter with a haunch of venison flanked by two suckling pigs, and another with a whole fish an armspan long. Behind came more servants with more platters: redroots, onions in cream sauce, cabbage sliced fine and steamed with vinegar and sugar—one of the favorite dishes in Pargun, the king had told Kieri. A casserole of steamed grain flavored with southern spices, breads rich with eggs and butter, hot from the oven.

Kieri and the Pargunese king moved to the seats reserved for them; Kieri looked over and saw that Elis had gone to the inglenook. She came out leading her brother by the hand. In a fisherman’s smock and short breeches, he looked like a miniature and unbearded version of his father, sturdy and stubborn. Well, he had convinced their father; surely he could convince the boy … if Elis didn’t. She sat at her father’s right hand, and pulled Iolin into the seat beside her.

That said “We are family” as clearly as anything else; the other lords looked startled but did not argue. The king gave Iolin a sharp glance around Elis, but then nodded and said no more about what had happened. After that, the warmth and food had their way as Kieri had hoped. As the lords ate, the guards were served; most of Kieri’s Squires ate with them; only two stood behind him. He did not protest; it was his kingdom.

When they had eaten the fish, the meats, the soup, the vegetables, the breads, and a dessert of apple tarts topped with heavy cream, one of the Pargunese lords belched loudly, leaned back in his chair, and smacked his hand on the table.

“You give a fine feast, Lyonya’s king, but we are not here to feast. You have our king tricked out in your clothes and a crown we have never seen. You are alive; that woman—” He pointed his elbow at Elis. “—is alive; what means this?” His Common was more accented than the king’s.

Kieri answered him in Pargunese. “I but escort your king, who will speak to you. I will translate for the Knight-Commander of Falk, who does not speak your language.”

The man turned to the Pargunese king. “Einar gave you challenge; you call us here to witness, and yet that king is alive and she is also, and I see no blood on your hands.”